


make believe we never needed any more than this

by manesalex



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Implied Sexual Content, M/M, References to Abuse, internalized ableism, temporary Michael Guerin/Maria Deluca, they're all unreliable narrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:55:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23303500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manesalex/pseuds/manesalex
Summary: Alex wrote letters to Michael the whole time he was in the military, all 10 years. He never sent them, but he wrote them to feel closer to Michael and then would put them in a box. When he comes home he puts the box away. Maria finds the box.
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 10
Kudos: 168





	make believe we never needed any more than this

“Which one first?” Maria asks as she plops down on the couch, tossing her dvd collection onto the coffee table.

Alex is already seated in the armchair, prosthetic off for the night. He shrugs, so she goes through her collection, looking for something that won’t touch on any of the issues between them she’s trying her hardest to avoid, in the interest of maintaining one of the most supportive friendships she has.

Maria had finally cornered Alex last week when he was visiting her mom and, well, with both her and her mother’s encouragement, she had talked him into tonight. Hanging out at his cabin with booze, shitty romcoms, and lots of pizza. She had even supplied the alcohol: a bottle of tequila for her and a bottle of Alex’s favorite whiskey for him.

Of course, they can’t talk about a lot of things because, well, she’s not going to complain about Michael with him. Not right now. She can’t vent to him about how, last night, Michael was blatantly flirting with Tess Harding at her bar while he drank free because he’s dating the owner.

So, instead, she talks about work and her mom. Alex won’t talk about work. Or his family. So it’s mostly just him telling her about random guys. And there aren’t many out guys in Roswell, so Maria is responsible for the bulk of the conversation.

Maria has just finished telling Alex about the latest Rancheros Night when he says, “I’ve got a box of clothes for donations… I was going to drop them off with you, but then…” he trails off. They both know why he never stopped by.

“That’s amazing!” She may oversell the enthusiasm a bit to try to get them both off the other topic. “We can always use more clothing donations. Do you want me to grab the box now?”

“Thanks. It’s just in the closet in my bedroom. Labeled and everything. I can help you with it if you-” he’s already reaching for his crutches.

“Nope! I’ve got it,” she says, scurrying to her feet and up toward his bedroom. Like Liz, she doesn’t know how to deal with that.

She opens his closet to find a few boxes on the floor. One labeled _Rancheros_ in Alex’s neat handwriting. She reaches down to pick it up when she sees something else out of the corner of her eye. A letter. With _Michael_ written on it.

Later, Maria will probably blame her overwhelming need to know all the town gossip. Not to use it or anything. She just wants to _know_. That was a significant part of why the mystery of Museum Guy had bugged her so much.

But, if she’s being truthful, it’s not just that.

Michael isn’t easy to date. In fact, he’s kind of a mess. Drinking, fighting, flirting with other women right in front of her. But she’s trying so desperately to make it work. Because she risked her friendship with one of her best friends for him. She _needs_ this to be worth what she might have lost.

And then there’s the other thing. She’s seen the way Michael looks at Alex when he doesn’t know she’s looking.

She keeps reminding herself he’s chosen her. Michael chose _her_. But some days, that's not enough.

So she’s desperate for answers that she suspects Alex may have. Answers that may make it easier to hold onto this fragile thing she’s trying to nurture. She doesn’t really consider the fact that, if Michael won’t give them to her, maybe she’s not supposed to have them.

No, she needs this thing to last. She needs the Michael she has seen little hints of, the one who held her when she cried, to be _hers_.

So, when she sees that letter, she grabs it. Only to find that it’s sticking out of a box full of letters. Filled to the brim with letters Alex has written to Michael, a date hiding in the upper right corner of each envelope where the stamp ought to be.

“Do you need help in there?” she can hear Alex call from the living room.

And so Maria doesn’t think any further. “No! I’ve got it!” she shouts as she shoves the box of letters into the box of donated clothes and closes it, lifting it up and heading out past Alex to drop it in the passenger seat of the truck.

She walks back inside, straight over to her bottle of tequila and takes several large sips. “What did I miss?” she asks, gesturing at the screen, as if either one of them had been paying close attention to the movie beforehand.

* * *

_M,_

_I’m sorry I left you without saying goodbye. I knew that, if you asked me to stay, I wouldn’t have been able to leave. And my dad, well, you may have seen him that day in the toolshed, but you don’t know what he’s truly capable of. What he’d do to you if I stayed._

_Basic is going to be hell, but I’ll make it through. All I have to do is think about you, happy and free at UNM. You’re going to change the world. You’re gonna be so much better off without me. You’ll see._

_Love,_

_Alex_

* * *

The box is full of letters to Michael. Most don’t have his name on the envelope. Most just say _M_ instead, like Alex was trying to hide who he was writing to.

There are thousands of letters. Some are short, a paragraph or two. Some are pages of words.

Maria took the time to organize them by date, telling herself she’ll sneak them back into Alex’s closet when she’s done. She just wants answers.

She's read about half of them and she can't help that sinking feeling of dread. The worry that she's made a huge mistake.

The answers she's finding aren't about how to hold on to Michael.

* * *

_M,_

_Today was a bad day. One of the members of my squad was shot. And she died. We were pinned down and, when it was happening, I kept myself calm by remembering that day in Flagstaff._

_Do you remember that? You came to meet me there and I don’t remember anything about the place itself. But I remember you. I remember the way your kisses taste and the way you curse when you’re getting close. I remember the way you held me after and asked me to stay. I wish I could have, love. I always wish I could stay._

_But I have obligations. And, once they’re over, once I’ve finished my tour, if you still want me, I want to try. I want to see if we work, outside of quick trysts in motel rooms and towns where no one knows either one of us._

_Love always,_

_Alex_

* * *

Maria doesn’t know if she’s angrier at Michael or herself. All she can think of is how willfully stupid she was. Because she _wanted_ someone like Michael. Someone who was _there_. Someone who didn’t _leave._ She wanted him so she let herself believe him when he said it was over. That it had been over. Let herself fall into the convenient explanation, that he and Alex had a brief thing in high school. That they kissed at the UFO Emporium and that Alex, her best friend, had built it up into something far more in his mind. That he was in love with the idea of a boy who was kind to him.

So she doesn’t know if she’s angrier with herself for believing it or with Michael for letting her hope.

She doesn’t bother to ease into things when she reaches the Airstream.

Michael is shirtless and gorgeous and working on a truck and she _wants,_ but she’s angrier than she has been in a long time.

“How long were you and Alex together? How long have you been over?” she asks him, certain she already knows the answers.

He looks confused. Hurt. And she has to fight to steel herself against his wounded puppy dog look. She hurt one of her best friends over him. The one person who had consistently been there for her with her mom. Even when he was on another fucking continent, he had been there for her as much as he could. She could have lost that friendship. Over a boy who was kind to her a few times.

“We were never really-”

It’s only at that moment that she realizes the question she really needs to ask. The only one that matters, “Are you in love with him?”

He swallows, looks at the dirt. And she _knows_. No answer needed.

She fights back the part of her that wants to say something casually hurtful, to hurt him the way he’s hurt her. But she doesn’t. Instead, she makes her way over to him and waits for an answer. For something to tell her what to do about what she knows.

“It doesn’t matter,” he swallows again. She can see the tears forming.

“Why not?”

“All we know is how to hurt each other.”

She _wants_ to ask how pursuing one of Alex’s best friends changes that. How she’s not just another part of this pattern they’re stuck in. She wants to point out how she deserves better. Instead, she shoves the letter she’s been holding into his hand and turns on her heel to walk away.

She’s proud of herself for making it to her car and managing to drive home before the tears start.

* * *

_M,_

_I wish you were here. I know that, after everything, that's selfish of me. I'm the one who left._

_I woke up here and, I guess, with all the drugs… They said my family was here. I thought that meant you. But my dad is here, probably thinking I couldn't even get blown up right._

_When it happened, I thought of you. You remember that week in San Antonio? You took me dancing and I've never felt so free, in your arms, surrounded by people like us. I thought I was dying and that memory made me feel safe. Like I was home again._

_There'll be no more dancing for me, cowboy. Not that you'd want me like this anyway. No, you could have anyone. You'll find someone who'll love you like I was too scared to. Someone who'll love you out in the open. Like you deserve._

_I hope you have that someday. Someone who'll love you like I should have. Someone who'll give you the home you always were for me._

_I'm sorry I couldn't be that person for you._

_Love always,_

_Alex_

* * *

“Would you mind coming with me to see my mom next time?” Maria asks. She’s trying something new. Asking for the support she needs from her friends and loved ones. Seeing her mom always exhausts her. It’s easier with someone else there. And Alex is especially good with her mom.

“Anytime,” Alex smiles at her, “Just let me know when you were thinking and I’ll find a way to fit it into my schedule.”

She knows she got lucky here. That things are easy between them again. She’s ended things with Michael and he’s aware of that. She’s tried to apologize, but Alex has just brushed it off. So, instead, she’ll just keep on insisting on giving him free whiskey until she feels less guilty. And he’ll keep on dropping cash on the bar before he leaves.

She’s serving another customer when Michael walks in, cowboy hat covering his curls. She glances between him and Alex warily, waiting to see if her friend needs her to step in. She scoots closer, within hearing range, pretending to focus on her work.

Michael strides over to Alex, drops his hat on the bar next to him and pulls out the letter she had handed him the day before. “Did you mean what you wrote in this?”

Alex’s eyes widen with panic and then he glares at her, thankfully, not too seriously, before returning his attention to Michael. “Yes.”

Maria watches from a distance as a smile spreads across Michael’s face. One she hasn’t seen before. One she'll later learn is only ever for Alex.

“Dance with me?” Michael asks, holding out a hand.

Maria can spot the blush rising in his cheeks as Alex gestures at his leg.

“I’ve got you, darlin’,” Michael replies, tone softer than Maria thought he was capable of.

She watches as Alex stands and moves into Michael’s arms. And, as soon as they’re distracted, she dashes over to the jukebox to get a slower song to start.

Michael is holding Alex close, his lips moving, but whatever he’s saying, his words are only for Alex.

Alex looks happier than she’s ever seen him, a smile on his face and his eyes filled with tears.

A few days from now, Alex will tell her that they’re trying to work things out. He’ll be careful about sharing more until Maria pushes for details.

He’ll say that they’ve both done a lot of talking, that they’re working through their problems as best as they can. That they both want to get it right this time.

He’ll tell her about how Michael told him that he’s the only home Michael has ever known. And how he’s struggling to accept that he can have this, that no one is going to take it away from him. But how he wants to.

But for now, Maria is just pretending she’s not watching them and hoping that, someday, she’ll find someone who loves her like that.


End file.
